


Embers and Stars

by RiaTheDreamer



Series: S15 Missing Scenes [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Homesickness, M/M, RvB Fluff Week, Slight Grimmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 20:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaTheDreamer/pseuds/RiaTheDreamer
Summary: With their new bases burning in the background, Grif and Simmons have a conversation about stars and homes.





	Embers and Stars

“I would kill him,” Grif said as they stared at the burning building from a safe distance. “But he’d just be back by tomorrow morning anyway.”

“It’s not that bad.” The cyborg tried to keep his voice hopeful but then a part of the building collapsed and the flames seemed to rise higher than ever. The fascinating sight was reflected in their visors. “Okay, it’s pretty bad.”

Grif let out a sound from the back of his throat before making the tragedy clear, “My bed was in there, Simmons.”

The maroon soldier began to wring his hands. “Yeah…”

“And my snack stash,” Grif continued and turned his head towards his friends before adding, “ _And_ your computer.”

“I know.” Simmons whined when something in Red Base turned out to be explosive – to be honest, it would have been a bigger surprise if there weren’t any explosives hidden somewhere – and even more black smoke rose from what had once been their home. “Maybe… some of it can be salvaged?”

“Looks like Donut is trying to put out the fire-“

“Fuck it, we’ve lost everything.” Simmons let out a sigh of defeat while watching the pink soldier run towards the burning base. Maybe it was caused by the remains of lube that could somehow always be found on the pink soldier, maybe Reds were just 40% inflammable, maybe Donut was just simply a bad luck magnet (and there seemed to appear more and more proof to support this theory) but the fact still was that instead of dying down the flames just rose higher towards the sky.

Grif had tilted his head. “Oh look, now the fire has spread to Blue Condo. Oh shit – now Sarge is just going to claim this whole shitshow as a plan to destroy the Blues’ Base _by accident_. Operation Loophole. Heh, _lupe_ hole.”

“Not really that funny when you realize this means we can’t even have a sleepover at the Blues.”

“Fuck, where do we sleep? Do we have to become freaking cavemen ‘cause Donut would just use that as an excuse to get naked.” He gasped in horror when he realized an even bigger problem. “Simmons, what are we going to eat?!”

“Luckily for you, this moon seems to have plenty of vegetation,” the cyborg informed him with a snort. The sky was growing darker in the distance, creating a greater contrast against the orange flames. For a moment he considered joining the frantic crowd that was trying to deal with the fire, but then again, Simmons had never really been a fan of heat.

Grif took off his helmet to run a hand down his face. “Is this your very twisted plan to make me eat vegetables?”

“Would it work?”

“Do I look like a rabbit, Simmons?”

The cyborg had never had his hopes up in the first place.

Eventually Grif just decided to sleep on the spot, dropping down to lie on the grass. He kept his helmet off to stare blankly at the darkened sky. Sometimes Simmons wondered why they all wore armors, even here that was supposed (big emphasis on _supposed_ ) to be the calmest place Kimball could find.

But then again – with Caboose’s tendency to shoot around wildly and with Donut starting a fire with a single touch – perhaps it was a good idea to keep the armor, for their own sakes.

Simmons looked at the fire again, and comforted himself with the fact that he was able to spot Wash and Carolina. It was basically the Freelancers’ job to deal with such catastrophes. They knew how to handle a fire, and the Reds and Blues were good at starting them.

With that in mind, Simmons took off his helmet and lay down next to Grif. The Hawaiian’s eyes moved to the left; revealing he had acknowledged his presence but he said nothing.

Simmons opened his mouth but suddenly became unsure if he should say something, if a conversation was truly needed. Maybe Grif had fallen asleep already. It had happened before, and he remembered too well how it felt to open up about his high school years, letting out a breath of relief because it felt good to finally speak his thoughts out loud, and then a snore would come from the other soldier and Simmons would knit his brows in annoyance.

But Grif was not snoring now, and while his breathing was calm and heavy, Simmons could sense that he was still awake.

At some point Tucker stepped into his field of view. The Blue was carrying a bucket and his helmet was tilted so he was staring down at the two fallen Reds.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving up on life,” Grif replied flatly.

“Cool. Then what is Simmons doing?”

Before Simmons could explain himself – or just ask himself the same question because he was not quite sure of the answer yet – Grif spoke again, “Keeping me company.”

“That sounds sweet. Don’t let me disturb your fun. I’ll be back when we’ve decided whether or not to sue you for property damage.”

“Hey, that was Donut’s fault!” Simmons used his elbow to sit up a little, watching Tucker walk away from their spot. “We didn’t sue you for those windows Caboose broke!”

“You should have known better than to play catch with Caboose,” Tucker called over his shoulder, and then the Reds were left alone once again.

Stars began to appear on the sky, small dots in the distance, and unwilling to break the silence, Simmons held his breath and began to count them. It helped him ignore the strange buzz in the back of his head and the smell of smoke that could reach them even here.

 He had counted 54 when Grif shifted and said, “I guess we’re homeless now.”

“Stop whining. We’ll- we’ll build something new.” They had done it before, back when their ship had crashed. Sarge was great at building things, and Lopez would help, and Simmons could come up with some blueprints – or _red_ prints, as Sarge preferred to call them.

Grif lifted an arm, pointing at Distant Dot Number 18 as named by Simmons, and he asked, “Do you think we can see Chorus from here?”

“Uhm, maybe? Pretty sure that isn’t Chorus, though. Chorus didn’t glow.”

“Huh.” He took a moment to consider that information. “What about Earth?”

“That’s… pretty far away.”

Which was true. How far, Simmons was not sure, but Earth seemed like such a distant place after all this time.  He knew Grif still missed it. After hearing about the tropical Hawaii, Simmons believed it was also a place hard to beat. Especially since every other place they had visited had turned out to be a warzone.

“This sucks,” Grif groaned, pulling Simmons out of his thoughts.

“I told you your room was a fucking fire trap.” The memories of empty cans and snacks bars and literally _everything_ littered across every surface in Grif’s room caused Simmons to shudder.

“Oh don’t you even – This was caused by Donut’s fucking candles. And _you_ were the one who just had to say you _love_ the scent of vanilla!”

Simmons turned over again so he could stare at Grif with narrowed eyes. “I was just saying I’d prefer that smell over the one coming from your pigsty of a room!”

“Well, now I don’t even have a room that you can bitch about, so good for you!” Grif inhaled deeply and Simmons watched as a frown became evident on his face. The Hawaiian then moved his hands behind his head to get in a more comfortable position. “So how long before we move again? Where do you think we’re gonna end up?” He let out a bitter snort. “I bet two more years and we’ll be living… there.” He freed one hand to point at a random distant dot.

Simmons blinked. “You can’t live on a star, Grif.”

“Don’t doubt the technology of the future, Simmons.”

The cyborg sighed and tried to copy Grif’s relaxed position but he never truly felt comfortable. Maybe it was the metal hand against the back of his head. “Well, we’re retired. This is our home. Well, the base was and now it’s gone but we can build something new. And, well, we’re pretty good at making a home wherever we are.”

“That’s just because Donut loves home-decorating.”

“You know what I mean.”

Grif probably did. He did not say anything out loud, but he let out a huff in agreement which was fine. Most of their deeper conversations ended in content silence. To avoid awkwardness, of course. Simmons was fine with that.

So he let out a deep breath, ignored the smell of smoke, and looked at the calm stars decorating the sky. No matter where they ended up they always had that beautiful view. It had to count for something.

Simmons lost track of time and almost jumped in surprise when the silence suddenly was broken. “You know what we should build?” Grif asked. “A waterpark. That can’t burn! It’d be an investment.”

The idea was appealing – if you did not have metal limbs that would drag you to the bottom of the pool. “I can’t swim,” Simmons said and momentarily forgot all the other more logical reasons why a water park might not be the best home.

Grif turned over to stare at him – there was a certain sparkle in his brown eyes that Simmons could not quite identity. “I’d just have to teach you,” he promised and sent him a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by secretlystephaniebrown on tumblr: “Grif and Simmons go stargazing.” Thank you for the prompt!
> 
> This took me seven days to write. I am not good at fluff, okay. But this was a really fun prompt to work with, and I really needed to practice my fluff writing. I hope it worked.
> 
> Okay, now all the theme weeks are over and I can work on my wips. Next chapter of Shake is halfway done so it won’t be long! Sorry for the wait!


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